


Leadership of Sound

by allihearisradiogaga



Category: Daft Punk, Deadmau5 (Musician), Skrillex (Musician)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Cyberpunk, Gen, bros, not skrillmau5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allihearisradiogaga/pseuds/allihearisradiogaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>deadmau5 Cyberpunk AU: Joel has to find his way to the lair of the overlords of the world in order to maintain the balance of sound manipulation, and stop that art from being destroyed forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago for an EDM big bang thing on tumblr and never got around to posting it ever. Like, 2010 long ago. BUT, I figured I'd post it. I honestly don't know how I feel about it--I think it's a cool story, but I was rushed writing it, and I don't know how I feel writing fanfic of real people. HOWEVER, I did write it, and it's a pretty cool story, I think, so I hope you enjoy!

1

 

“God dammit,” said Joel.  He rolled over in his bed and shielded his eyes as the sun fell down upon him from the window, where the shades were drawn.  “God damn the God damn sun just dammit.”  He rolled over onto a remote control, which triggered the television on the wall to spark up.

     “And the prime leaders have declared today that there will be further censorship of sound in public places, in response to the recent increase in sound-based attacks around the globe.  Many critics warn that the new laws may alienate many citizens of the world, but the prime leaders, as always, were not available for comment.  Jan, what is your take on this?”  The camera on the television panned from the anchor to an analyst (probably named Jan, given the introduction), and Joel shook his head.  “It’s bullshit, is what it is,” he said to no one in particular.  He looked around and his eye caught sight of the clock.  He groaned inwardly.  He had overslept.  That wasn’t a surprise, but he was really hoping that he could have gotten something done that day.  “It’s too far gone already,” he said, looking down at the clock that read “8:36 AM”.  He laughed to himself and stretched.  He attached a black mechanical apparatus to his left forearm, covering a few tattoos in the process.

     The device was simple and sleek, and Joel popped open a panel that took up a large part of it and looked at the holographic screen it displayed for him.  He ran his right-hand fingers over the controls, flicking through a few selection menus and finally selecting one option over the others.  A soft bass hum began to fill the air around him.

     Joel glided into the kitchen, fully supported by the low bass tones, smoothly landing on a stool at the island.  He leaned over and pressed a button on the automatic coffee pot.  As he waited for that to brew, he pressed a few more commands on the device on his arm and began to feel a beat around him, inside of him, and through everything.

 

* * *

 

2

 

     Joel adjusted the cap on his head as he walked through the crowded marketplace.  There were people of all sorts bustling in every direction simultaneously, and yet in the chaos, not a single collision occurred.  Joel stopped at a small mart to pick up a Pop Tart to eat as he was walking, as he hadn’t eaten any solid breakfast, but then decided that there was no way he could be bothered to both eat and walk at the same time.  So he sat on the edge of a rather large but shallow fountain in the middle of the marketplace.

     For a moment, while eating, Joel people watched.  There were a variety of people in the crowd of all shapes, sized, colors, and demeanors.  One figure, though, stood out to him, mostly because of its attempts to not stand out to him.

     “God dammit, Sonny…” said Joel under his breath.  He threw the rest of his Pop Tart to a nearby pigeon; he was no longer hungry.  Sonny hadn’t been there for long, and Joel had only gotten a glimpse, but it was enough to turn his stomach foul.

     Joel wasn’t sure what was running through his head, whether it was anger, jealousy, apathy, or regret, but he suddenly felt as if he should show off.  He didn’t know if Sonny was even there anymore, but he had to show everyone that he was better than him (better than that asshole) and he found himself giving into that impulse rather willingly.

     Joel flipped open the panel on the device attached to his arm, and as soon as the holographic screen appeared, his fingers were running over the controls.  A low rumbling began, and the water behind him began to tremble slightly.  A few people turned to look at him, a first break from their busy days.

     Joel began to integrate a soft kick-snare drumbeat and the sounds began to rise, causing the water behind him to dance rhythmically.  Joel stood up, feeling himself fall into the zone of sound creation, of music creation, in which he was comfortable and free in.  He began working in some stab riffs, sending little indentations into the air around him, and a wide grin found its way across his face.

     He looked around, and more people had stopped and were staring at him.  They were not staring with the awe that Joel had hoped to inspire, though, but a sort of stunned look on their collective face.

     Joel stopped and looked around him.  “What the hell?” he said to himself.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see two rather large men in large black uniforms, wearing shiny helmets and holding police batons.  There was a large white triangle on each of their chests.  They were headed straight toward Joel.  He felt uneasy.

     “Sir,” said one of them before they had even made it all the way to him.  “You have violated laws relating to the regulation of sound in public places, and you are under arrest by the power of the world wide government.  Do not resist.”

     “Seriously, what the hell?” asked Joel.  “Did I miss something?”

     The large law enforcers did not reply.  One of them held out a pair of handcuffs, readily going toward Joel’s wrists.  Joel took a step backwards.  “Hey, dude, I don’t know what you think I did, but I sure as hell didn’t break any laws.”

     “You broke law N-008 section 12.  You are at the mercy of the worldwide government.  We are to take you into custody-“

     “Bull shit!” exclaimed Joel.  “Whose asshole are you pulling this shit out of?”

     “-immediately imprison you until your trial.  A lawyer will be appointed to you if you do not have one available.”

     “You’re goddam kidding me, right?” asked Joel.  The two officers’ faces showed no indication that they were.  The officer with the handcuffs once again advanced toward Joel.

     A large, deep bass tone emerged from the crowd behind the two men in black.  Both of their heads whipped around, and Joel took this opening to once again flick open the panel on the device on his arm.  He slashed his hand over the controls and a slicing treble tome cut between the two guards in a thin column of sound.  One turned back around and before he could do anything, Joel had already knocked him off of his feet with a lower tone.

     At this point, the other law enforcement officer ran at Joel, his police baton held high.  Joel sent a flurry of a high-pitched riff at the hand with the baton, and the nightstick was knocked away.  When the man took another step closer, Joel punched him in the face, causing some blood to squirt out of the man’s broken nose.  The other officer began to stand as well and Joel leapt at him, driving his elbow into the side of the man’s helmet, knocking him unconscious.

     Joel looked down at the two officers on the ground, and then at the people all around him.  They stared at him with a shocked demeanor.

     Joel turned and ran, his foot crushing a Pop Tart wrapper as he went, into the crowd.

 

* * *

 

3

     “What the hell was that goddam scene?” asked Joel to no one in particular when he was back in his apartment.  He threw some clothes at the backpack on his bed.  “Just—what the fuck?”  He reached into a small box on the top of his bureau and extracted a wad of bills, which he jammed into the front pocket of his jeans.

     He threw a couple of more pieces of clothing into the bag and went to the living room and kitchen area, where he threw some light provisions into the bag.  A newspaper on the kitchen table caught his eye.  He picked it up.

     “God damn it, those bastards did it,” he said.  He dropped the newspaper on the table and zipped up his backpack, heading for the door.  Two helmeted figures, hands raised in a symbol of peace, looked up from the front page of the newspaper.


	2. Chapter 2

1

     “Where the hell is Aoki?” asked Joel as he entered the store.  A bell jangled as he stepped over the threshold.

     “I’m right here, man,” came the voice from behind the counter.  Joel neared him, and the man’s bearded face held a large smile.  “What brings you around here?  I haven’t seen you in a while.”

     “Well,” said Joel, “I could use and extender plug-in,” he motioned to a package on the wall behind the counter, where more valuable items were displayed, “but I also need some information.”

     “What kind of information?” asked Steve as he retrieved the box from the wall.

     “The kind I’m not supposed to know,” said Joel.

     Steve’s face darkened.  “It’s got to do with that new law, isn’t it?” he asked.  “Joel, I’m not going to screw with the WWG on this one.”

     “Yeah, I am not asking you to.”  Joel’s hand moved toward the box on the counter, but Steve slid it back, never breaking eye contact.

     “Did you already break it?” asked Steve.  Joel didn’t reply.  “God _damn_ it, Joel, what the hell?”

     “I don’t even know what the goddam law is, how the hell am I supposed to follow it?”

     “Read a paper!”

     “I can’t read that WWG propaganda shit,” said Joel.  “You know that.  It’s a wonder I even keep it for the shitty comics.  And it’s a God-awful law anyway.”

     “Just because you don’t like a law doesn’t mean you don’t have to follow it,” said Aoki.  He picked up the box off of the counter and took a step back.  “I’m not going to get caught consorting with a criminal.”

     “You’re not going to get caught,” said Joel.

     “You know what I mean.”

     “Fine,” said Joel.  He placed a good-sized stack of bills on the counter.   “For the plug-in.  And for a bit of info.  And then I’m gone.”

     “What info do you want to know?” asked Steve.

     “Where are the heads of the government?” asked Joel.

     “You know I don’t know that,” said Steve.

     “You know someone who does,” said Joel.  “And you just need to point me in that direction.”

     “Zimmerman, do you even understand what you’re implying—or what you’re doing?”

     “No, I don’t,” said Joel.  “And that’s why I know I’m probably right.  Now, just tell me, and I’ll be on my God damn way.”

     “I can’t let you do that,” said Steve.  He placed the plug-in on the shelf below the counter.  His right hand strayed toward his left arm.

     “Don’t you do that,” said Joel, eyeing the slight bulge under Aoki’s left shirtsleeve.

     “Leave my shop,” said Steve.  “I don’t have what you’re looking for here.”

     “Bullshit,” said Joel.  “You know where I can find them, don’t you?”

     “Get the hell out of here,” said Steve.

     “Not without what I came for,” said Joel.

     “So be it.”  Steve ripped his left shirtsleeve off in one clean motion, revealing a black device attached to his forearm.  He flipped open the panel of instruments and sent a screeching drop through the shop, rattling some of the displays and pushing against Joel.

     “It’s going to take more than that to take me out,” said Joel.  “Come at me, bro.”

     Aoki jumped onto the counter in one bound and stood on it.  He flicked his fingers across the device and sent a pounding melody at Joel.  He dodged the first few solid blocks of sound, but one hit him directly in the stomach, sending him toppling over a rack of newly-released CDs.  A thudding of a bass continued as Joel stood.

     “Joel, this is dumb,” said Steve.  He was still standing on the counter.  “Go home.  Turn yourself in.  Don’t go after the government.”

     “I don’t have an issue with the government,” said Joel.  “I’ve got an issue with those two dickheads and how they’re fucking with stuff they should stay out of.”

     “You need to stop before you get into this too deep,” said Steve.

     “Look around, dude, look at this shit,” Joel gestured at the mess around him, “I’m already in too deep.  Just tell me-“

     Aoki leapt off of the counter, sending a flurry of song out around him, sending Joel backward again, this time slamming him all the way against the wall.  His head hit the wall with a distinctive _bonk_.

     Steve walked up to Joel, who was leaned against the wall with his head down.  “I’m calling the cops, Joel.  You’re insane if you think you can take down the Worldwide Fucking Government.  This is for your own good.”

     He turned and began to walk back toward the counter, to the telephone.  “And this is for yours,” whispered Joel.

     “Wha-“ began Steve.  He was cut off by the torrent of sound hitting his body.  He slammed forward into the counter, collapsing it and shattering the glass on the front of it.  Joel paused and repeated the torrent of sound, causing many of the display racks in the store to collapse, sending merchandise in every direction.

     Joel picked himself up and walked over to Steve, who was heaped over the broken counter.  “I’m taking the goddam plug-in,” said Joel.  “Here’s some money, this should cover it.”  He dropped a few bills onto Steve’s back and picked up the extender plug-in.

     He walked to the door of the shop, leaving Aoki face down on what was at one point a counter, with blood welling up where a jagged piece of glass was puncturing his stomach, his breaths raspy and shallow.  “Fucking idiot,” murmured Jowl as he exited the shop, the bell on the door jingling as he did so.

 

* * *

 

2

     “God dammit,” said Joel, sitting in an alley a few streets away from Aoki’s store.  “Where the hell am I going to get my info now?”

     “What info?” asked a voice.  Joel turned, surprised by the familiarity.

     “Dammit, Sonny, what the fuck?”  Joel felt anger welling up inside of him.  This all because she showed up.  Because he _showed his face_.

     “You seem to have gotten yourself in a bind,” said Sonny, his hands resting on his hips as he spoke, looking down at Joel.

     “Why are you here?” asked Joel.

     “That was quite a display earlier,” said Sonny.  “You took those guys out, man.”

     “Are you following me?” asked Joel, his anger still strong in his voice.

     “And then with Aoki… you kind of went overboard with him, mang…”

     “Shut up!”  Joel was on his feet, face to face with Sonny.  He jammed a finger toward the smaller man’s face.  “I’m not your ‘mang’, you little shit, and to think that you can just show up and expect me to forgive you…”

     “I don’t,” said Sonny.

     “Well then why the hell are you following me?”

     “Because I want the same thing you do.”

     “Fuck you.”

     “Joel, what the hell?  I want the same things as you –“

     “Yeah, well you could’ve thought about that before.”

     “I recall that fight being two-sided, man.  Don’t play a martyr.”

     Joel turned away.  Sonny sighed.

     “Don’t follow me,” said Joel.  He walked away.

     Sonny stayed.

 

* * *

 

3

     Joel crept through the seedier side of the city, close to the harbor, where large cargo ships could be seen over the rooftops of the lower buildings.  The moon, a waxing crescent, rose above the city.  The stars were sparse.

     “Hey baby, lookin’ for a good time?” asked a woman to Joel.  Judging by her extravagant makeup, scant clothing, and overall air about her that made her seem like she’d given up on life, Joel figured she was either a man or a whore.  She was probably both.

     “No, thanks,” he said.  “I’m having a great time already lady.”   And he kept on walking, even as she shouted at him that he was a loser, and told him exactly where he could shove his stuck-up goddamned attitude.  Joel paid no mind.  He did, thought, keep an inconspicuous eye out over his shoulder.  For about an hour, he felt as if he had been followed, catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye that would disappear the second that he would turn around.

     Naturally, he decided to stay wary.  He didn’t want to get caught off guard by Sonny.  He also didn’t want to get caught off guard by any authorities that might be looking for him.

     Joel found a small hole-in-the-wall bar and went inside.  It was ill-lit, and there were few people in it.  A small analog TV was mounted in the corner.  Joel didn’t even think those worked anymore.  He hadn’t seen one in at least ten years.  He sat at the bar.  After a moment, the bartender came over to him.

     “Whata you’ll have?” he asked in a gruff voice.  He wanted to get Joel his drink and get back to whatever sports game was being played in poor definition on the old TV.

     “A beer,” said Joel.  The bartender didn’t bother asking him what kind, just placed a bottle from the cooler below and a glass from a rack to his left side on the bar in front of Joel.

     “Three-fifty,” said the bartender.  Joel gave him a fiver.  “Keep the change,” he said.  The bartender didn’t thank him, just wandered off to watch the game, not bothering to put the five in the register.  Instead, he just slipped it into his pocket directly.

     Joel took a sip of his beer and took the extender plug-in from his backpack.  He removed the small gray piece from the box and placed the box on the bar.  The small plug-in had two round metallic prongs, which Joel inserted into the upper end of the device clinging to his left forearm.  A small green light turned on at the end of the plug-in.  Joel took another sip of his beer as the plug-in installed.  The bartender was still watching the game at the other end of the bar, but a tall, slender man was walking toward him, and sitting next to him.  His eyes were too large form his head, and his grin was cartoonishly large.  What most garnered Joel’s attention was that the man’s skin was pitch black.  Not of African descent, but pitch black.

     And he was talking to Joel.  “That’s a neat toy you’ve got there,” said the black stranger with the unnervingly-large smile.

     “Yeah…” said Joel, staring at the man’s dark skin in a sort of incomprehension.  “Um…”

     “It’s a tattoo,” said the man.  “Sort of like yours.  But on all of me.”

     “Oh,” said Joel.  He glanced at the tattoos that covered his arms before turning back to the man.  “Why?”

     “Why not?” replied the man.  “The name’s Naeleck.  Nice device.”  His tongue flicked across his teeth, it being much longer than any other tongue Joel had ever seen before.

     “Yeah,” replied Joel.  “It’s sort of nifty.”  He patted it.  “Really goddam useful, actually, Naeleck.  The name’s Joel.”

     “It’s hard to use those nowadays, isn’t it?” asked Naeleck.  “What with all the new laws…”

     “It really seems like everyone but be knows about these damn laws,” said Joel.

     “You’ve pissed someone off already?” asked Naeleck.

     “Try the WWG,” replied Joel.

     “Damn.”

     They both took large gulps of their respective beers.

     “So what’re you going to do now?” asked Naeleck.  ‘Being on the lam and stuff, that is…”

     A large beep came from the plug-in as it finished installing.  The bartender heard this and turned from the game.  He now noticed the device on Joel’s arm for the first time.

     “Hey!” he exclaimed.  ‘I can’t have you in here with that thing!”

     “God fucking dammit,” muttered Joel.  “Nae, I’m going to have to go.”  He downed the rest of his drink.

     “I think I can help you,” said Naeleck, his pervasive grin continuing to remain.

     “You gotta get out of here, or I’m calling the pigs,” said the bartender.

     “Yeah, fuck you very much,” said Joel, not paying any attention to Naeleck.  “I’m leaving.”  He started to leave, and remembered.  “Naeleck, why are you following me?”

     “’Cause I think I can help you out?” said Naeleck, who was indeed just behind Joel.

     “Get out of here,” said the bartender, beginning to get angry.  “I’m serious, I’ll call you in if you don’t get out of here.”

     “Shove it up your ass,” replied Joel.  “Let’s go.”

     They exited the bar, the bartender watching the whole time as they went.  He watched for a moment after they had gone, but soon returned his attention to the game on the television, just as he had before, as if Joel had never been there at all.

 

* * *

 

4

     “So what you’re telling me is you want to get at the big two, _the_ two, the heads to the WWG?” asked Naeleck.  Joel exhaled a bout of smoke and nodded.  “Do you even know where to go next?”

     “No,” said Joel.  “I have no goddam idea, that’s the thing.  The guy I thought would be able to tell me where to go attacked me instead.”

     “I hate it when that happens,” replied Naeleck.  “But I might know where you can try next.”

     “What?” asked Joel.  He flicked his cigarette, sending some ash to the ground.

     “Yeah,” said Naeleck.  “There’s this pyramid in an oasis in the African desert…”

     “Wait, you want me to go into the desert in the middle of Africa?” asked Joel.  “What kind of a chump do you think I am?”

     “No,” said Naeleck.  “I’m not even shitting you.  There’s this spot in the middle of the desert where there’s this big triangular building and it could have the leaders of the WWG.”

     “How do you know about this?” asked Joel.  “The headquarters of the WWG and the heads are supposed to be top secret.”

     “Yeah,” said Naeleck, “but before they shut down the INT, a very reliable source gave me some coordinates.”

     “Why the fuck would you want the coordinates of the HQ of the WWG?” asked Joel.

     “You’re not the only one with a personal vendetta,” said Naeleck, the grin dropping from his face for a moment—just the briefest of moments—before returning, full-force.  “Plus I figured they might be useful someday.  Like today, for example.”

     “Okay,” said Joel.  He dropped the cigarette he was holding to the ground and extinguished the butt with the heel of his shoe.  “What the hell are we waiting for?  Let’s fucking get to it.”

     “I thought you’d never say so,” said Naeleck, grinning devilishly.  “Wait-“ he said.  “How are we going to her there?”

     “Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Joel, donning a grin of his own.  “I have a friend with a plane.”


	3. Chapter 3

1

     “God dammit, Zimmerman,” said the man as he spun around in his office chair.  “I thought I told you last time-“

     “Cram it, Guetta,” said Joel.  Guetta crammed it.  “I need to use your plane.”

     “What?  You think I’ll just let you barge in here and-“

     “You owe me big time,” said Joel.  “You just need to get me to central Africa.”

     “What the fuck?”

     “Central Africa,” repeated Joel.  “Me and this little bastard.”  He jammed a thumb over his shoulder at Naeleck, who now gave a wave and a wider grin, showing white teeth to contrast with his black skin.

     “What the hell do you want in Central Africa?” asked Guetta.  “And at what point did you think I would ever owe you a plane ride?”

     “Well, one, it’s none of your fucking business,” said Joel.  “And two, because you owe me about five thousand, and I’d be willing to pay you that, plus gas.”

     “Remind me to stop betting,” said Guetta.

     “So you’ll do it,” said Joel.

     “Yeah, you freeloading douche, but keep in mind: you owe _me_ now.”

     “When can we go?” asked Joel, disregarding Guetta’s previous statement.

     “Tomorrow morning,” said Guetta.  “By which time I’m sure you’ll have the five thousand.”

     “See you then,” said Joel.  ‘Come on, Nae, I’m crashing at your place tonight, if that’s cool.”  They left the office.  Guetta rolled his eyes.  He hated Joel Zimmerman.

 

* * *

 

2

 

     It was a longer flight than Joel had expected.  They had left early in the morning, not wasting any time getting off the ground.  As soon as they were in the air, Naeleck and Guetta were at the front of the plane, chattering about coordinates (though Joel hoped that if anything, Naeleck didn’t touch any of the instruments that made the plane fly—he wasn’t sure that he trusted that would be safe) and for the most part, Joel was left alone.

     He was about to do something unthinkable, and that was to challenge the two that facilitated the government.  He was going to attack the two people, and by extension, the whole world itself.

     It wasn’t that he wanted to seize the power for himself—Joel didn’t know anything about running the world, and he wasn’t about to pretend to—but something had to be done.  Someone had to do something.

     And with taking away the one thing that left Joel in control, the one thing that let him express himself, they had made him that person.  He had expressed minor outrage at the takedown of the Intercontinental Networking Terminal, the INT, but that wasn’t something he had so endeared himself to.  The sound was a part of him, and using it was a sort of a freedom that he could not part with.  He wasn’t going to _let_ them make him part with it.

     He didn’t know what Naeleck had against the WWG to make him so interested in taking it down, or at least disrupting it, but he didn’t really care.  The motive was not a problem for him.  It was the outcome that really mattered.

* * *

 

3

 

     “We’re here,” said Naeleck.  Joel’s eyes snapped open to find the black man standing over him, that elongated grin still plastered on his face.

     “Get off of me,” said Joel, swatting Naeleck away.  He hadn’t realized that he had dozed off.  “We’re here already?”

     “Yep,” said Naeleck.  “Grab a parachute and I’ll show you how to deploy it.”

     “How do I know there’s not a big ass hole in the parachute, as a part of king Dickweed’s evil plan?” asked Joel.

     “Hahahahahaha fuck you,” said Guetta, raising a finger toward Joel without moving from the pilot’s seat.  “I wouldn’t go through so much trouble.”

     Joel struggled with the straps and got the parachute roughly onto his back.            "I'm not sure if this is the best idea," said Joel.  "I mean, I don't know if I even know how to work a parachute."  
     "Just pull the cord," said Guetta.  "You'll be fine."  
     "Here it comes," said Naeleck, pointing out of the hatchway to a black pyramid poking a hole though the dense jungle tree line.  
     "I'm not sure I-"  Joel was cut off as Naeleck shoved him from behind, sending him hurtling from the plane and into a freefall.  Naeleck laughed, his tongue pulling back in the corner of his mouth as he fell.  Joel was shouting profanities below him.  
     "Be sure to pull the cord before you get too close!" shouted Naeleck, laughing all the time as the forest below rushed toward him.  Soon enough, the bloom of color of Joel's parachute appeared, and Naeleck pulled his own chute cord as well.  They drifted downward to the trees, a few hundred yards from the interruption of the pyramid.  
     Joel was worried that his parachute would catch in the trees, but it did not, and he landed safely, albeit ungracefully, on the jungle floor.  Naeleck touched down not long after.  They both unclipped from their harnesses while taking in the dense jungle around them.  
     "What the hell?" asked Joel.  "You think it's okay to just push, e out of a goddam plane like it's nothing?  I could have died!"  
     "But you didn't," said Naeleck.  "In any case, you wouldn't have gone if I didn't push you."  
     "Fuck you," said Joel, unable to come up with any other justified response.  Naeleck's grin persevered.  
     "What way is the goddam headquarters?" asked Joel, glancing around the jungle.  
     "This way," said Naeleck, beginning to push through the underbrush.  Joel followed, leaving the parachutes behind.

* * *

 

4

  
     The pyramid was much larger when approached close up.  It was not what Joel expected, in one major and distinct way:  
     "It's old," said Joel.  "Why the hell is it so old?"  
     "It's an ancient pyramid," said Naeleck.  "It was made by an ancient civilization long ago."  
     "I thought you said that it was the headquarters of the WWG."  
     "It is," said Naeleck.  "You see, this small patch of jungle, though it doesn't really seem it right now, is a part of an oasis in the middle of a freaking big desert.  A long time ago, when people still believed in weird gods and shit, they thought that this place must have been a place of fertility, and that they should create a monument to the gods" worship for fertility."  
     "And what does this have to do with the WWG?" asked Joel.  
     "This is a protected historical site," said Naeleck.  "That's why we had to parachute in.  That and you're a wanted criminal."  
     "So what it's protected?"  
     "No one is allowed to be around here," said Naeleck.  It's the perfect guise for a secret headquarters... put it where people will not go anyway."  
     "So it makes perfect sense that they would build their HQ here," said Joel.  
     "Exactly," said Naeleck.  "And that's exactly why I think that they did."  
    "So let's go then'" said Joel.  "There's no sense in putting off what we came here for."  
    "No, there isn't," said Naeleck.  "It looks like there's an entrance over there.". He pointed across the slanted side of the pyramid to a sort of a baroque doorway that jutted out from the surface.  They made their way toward it, Joel leading and Naeleck close behind.  
    "It's dark in here," said Joel.  "Did you bring a flashlight or something?"  
    "No," replied Naeleck.  No sooner had he said that when there was a loud noise, the sound of stone grinding on stone, and the two turned just in time to see a large slab of rock cover the entranceway to the pyramid.  
    "Oh, shit," said Joel.  "Naeleck?"  
    There was no reply.  
    "Naeleck?" asked Joel.  "Are you there?"  
    Again, there came no reply.  
     "Seriously, where the fuck are you?" asked Joel, shouting now.  His voice echoed back to him against the apparently cavernous walls around him.  "Was there a cave-in?".  
     There was still no reply.  
     Then, Joel saw the eyes.  They were glowing white, two points of luminescence in total darkness.  The looked like a pair of extremely bright flashlights, but Joel could feel that they were watching him.  They were watching him.  
     "Holy shit," said Joel.  "Naeleck, what are you doing?"  
     Now Naeleck responded.  "Sorry man, I have to my job."  
     "What the fuck is your job?" asked Joel, not breaking his eyes from the glowing eyes.  "Are you working with the WWG?  I bet you are, you asshole.  That would explain why you knew right where to go!  I bet Guetta was in on this-"  
     "Guetta had nothing to do with this," said Naeleck.  He laughed.  "And neither did the WWG.  Though I was surprised you believed me there- my lies were thin at best."  
     "What the hell is going on, then?" asked Joel.  He could have sworn that the eyes had gotten closer to him.  
     "Remember when I said that this was considered a place of fertility?" asked Naeleck.  "Well, they needed something to protect it, so that it will remain pure and fertile.  So they prayed to their gods for some sort of defense.  Instead, they were given Danger."  
     "I don't follow," said Joel, beginning to bet creeped out more than angry.  
     "The thing moved to host to host as years went on, and with each incarnation, it got hungrier?"  
     "So?"  
     "Well," said Naeleck, "Danger cannot leave this pyramid.  It is bound by divine law, so it will not be unleashed on the outside world and forget its post."  
     "You brought me here as a meal," said Joel, understanding.  "You are going to feed me to it."

     "Sadly, my friend, but you are not mistaken in that respect," came Naeleck's seemingly disembodied voice.  "I feel that you are about to be killed by the ravenous being that is Danger."  
     The eyes were very close to Joel now, and something was upon him.  It was the shape and feeling of a man, from what Joel could tell, as he grappled with it in the dark, but it was strong, stronger than a normal human being.  Joel rolled over, pushing the being away from him.  The ancient stone floor was cold below him.  He reached over with his right hand, desperately trying to access the device that was attached to his left forearm, but the other being had pinned down his arms.  
     A searing pain ripped through Joel's body as something incredibly sharp cut into his stomach.  "Arrugh!" he exclaimed, and he could feel blood welling up from the wound.  He winced, but he could not tell the difference between the darkness of the interior of the pyramid and the darkness of his the interior of his eyelids, except for the two glowing eyes, the eyes that seemed to always be there in the darkness, watching him...  
     The thing moved, readjusting itself and attaching Joel's chest, attacking it, scratching him with its claws.  Joel's arms were freed, and he sent out a screeching flurry of tones in short order.  The creature screeched, audibly affected.  It got off of Joel and he could see its eyes blinking as it backed away from him.  Joel tried to get to his feet, but had to try twice before making it to his feet.  His stomach wound was still bleeding profusely, and his chest scratches were also bleeding a good amount, and as he moved, tiny needles of pain shot through his whole body.  
     "You fucking dick," said Joel.  He generated a set of contrasting chords, going faster and faster, sending waves of sound straight at the creature, as was detectable by the staring eyeballs.  The creature shrieked, buffeting Joel with patterns of sound.  Joel gritted his teeth and held his ground.  He sent out a large pumping base that thumped against the walls of the pyramid.  It seemed to be small at first, but it grew, and as it did, so did the echoes and reverberations of the large open area of the inside of the pyramid.  Instead of escaping, the bass tones multiplied, bounding back on each other, filling the room with a low rumbling pump of the bass.  
     The creature did not seem to mind this, but took a step forward, toward Joel.  Joel did not panic, and a smile spread across his face.  He wasn't sure if the creature could see it in the darkness, but he smiled nonetheless.  As the creature was almost upon him, Joel sent out a high tone straight at the ceiling above the creature.  
     The heavy stone of the ceiling, made weak now by the bass that had been pounding against it, gave way and fell.  As it did, sunlight flooded the pyramid, and Joel was able to see the creature's face before it was crushed by the rock.  
     It was a thing of darkness, all black save for those two white eyes.   _Maybe_ , thought Joel, _that's the reason el freak tattooed himself black.  To be like his master_.  
     At the thought of Naeleck, Joel surveyed the mostly empty pyramid and did not see him.  Joel didn't like not knowing where Naeleck was, and didn't like not knowing what he'd do now that Joel killed his master.  Joel decided that the best thing to do would be to leave, to get out of there, and to do it as quickly as possible.  Seeing that the entrance was still sealed shut by the large stone, he looked up.  His only way out was up.  He soon found himself climbing up the rubble.  
     At first it was slow going, but soon Joel found his pace and before long he was at the top of the pyramid, standing on the collapsed rip of the tip.  All around the pyramid was dense jungle, and beyond that was desert.  There was nothing at all to see, seemingly for miles, but golden sand, twinkling in the sun.  
     Joel racked his brain and remembered his old elementary school geography classes and realized that his best bet would be north- that would be his quickest route to civilization.  This quickest route would still probably take him over many miles.  He figured out his orientation by the sun, and made his descent down the outside of the pyramid.  
     When he was almost to the bottom, he saw Naeleck.  He wasn't sure that it was him at first, but upon closer inspection, it could have been none other.  Naeleck must have been making his escape, because he was sprawled out facedown with a large hunk of stone resting rather violently on his back.  A puddle of reddish ooze that Joel recognized as Naeleck's blood pooled around the body.  
     But what Joel was really interested in was what Naeleck was holding.  A set of keys, car keys, which would have allowed Naeleck to make his escape.  Joel pried them from Naeleck's fingers, which was somewhat difficult because Naeleck had gone into rigor mortus, and looked into the jungle in the direction that Naeleck seemed to have been heading when he was killed.  That was the way he went.

* * *

 

5

  
     Joel bust out of the jungle and zoomed through the desert.  The dust whipped up all around him, and for the most part, he kept his foot firmly on the accelerator pedal.  The SUV that Naeleck had kept in the jungle was well-equipped, and Joel found the ride to be very easy.  There was no road through the desert, but there was a definite path that Naeleck had obviously travelled before on his trips to and from the pyramid that held Danger.  
     That night, Joel parked in the desert, between the dunes, and fell asleep watching the stars through the sunroof.  A large plane flew by overhead, and Joel watched it go.


	4. Chapter 4

1

  
     It was the afternoon when Joel found civilization.  It was not what he expected, but it was something he was happy to find nonetheless.  It was a large city, built against the desert, a large wall surrounding it on the south side.  Joel soon saw that there was no way to get into the city from the desert side, and he drove around it until he found a highway that went in and out of the city.  On the other side of the highway, Joel could see a glistening sea.  
     Joel waited until no other cars seemed to be coming and he pulled onto the highway and headed into the city.  It was much larger on the inside than it had at first seemed, and Joel was duly impressed.  He drove around for a while, driving past restaurants and shops and apartments and people milling about on the sidewalks.  
     "What the hell am I supposed to do next?" asked Joel to himself.  He realized that he was further from the leaders of the World Wide Government than he was when he started, but at least now, in a new city, people wouldn't know who he was.  If they didn't recognize him, they might be more likely to diverge information.  Familiarity hadn't worked when trying to get information out of Aoki, and he didn't really think that it would work again (or that he would get a chance to try it).  He was in a strange place now, and he would have to get information in any way that he could.  
     Joel finally settles on a derelict nightclub at the edge of the city, a couple of blocks back from the water.  It was clear from its exterior that it was what used to be a small warehouse, probably used when things were hauled in from port.  Now, though, it was a small nightclub, and music and light seeped out of the cracks in the flimsy walls.

     The bar was ill-lit, but that didn’t make much of a difference to Joel.  Smoke wafted through the air, finding its way past the many people crowding the place to find its place, hovering near the ceiling.

     “You didn’t look like you’re from around here,” said the man sitting next to Joel at the bar.  He had large, bushy hair and an equally large and bushy moustache.

     “I’m not,” said Joel.  “I’m just visiting.”

     “Hell of a place to just visit,” said the man on the other side of the big-haired man.  He was somewhat smaller, had a mouse-like face, and a darker complexion.

     “Yeah, but some people do,” said Joel, returning to his drink.

     “You look like shit, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said the taller, bushy-haired man.

     “Thanks a lot, asshole,” replied Joel.  “Because I hadn’t yet noticed myself.”

     “What’s that on your arm?” asked the smaller man.  Joel suddenly became self-conscious of the device on his left arm and put it in his lap.

     “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said.

     “Nothing?” asked the smaller man.  “It sure as hell looks like something.”

     “Hey, if you think we’re going to turn you in, or that we’re undercover or something, you’re wrong,” said the taller man.  “We just recognize a musician when we see one.”

     “I’m Xavier,” said the smaller one, sticking out his hand.  “And this is Gaspard.”  Joel shook their hands.  “We’re very interested in the various talents of musicians.”  He paused, sizing Joel up.  “Do you fight?”

     “Only when provoked,” said Joel, taking another sip of his drink.  This seemed to tickle the men, because they chuckled at it.

     “Well, what would it take to ‘provoke’ you?” asked Gaspard.  “One hundred?  Two?”

     “You’re talking money?” asked Joel.

     “Well I sure as hell hope I’m not talking gold-plate3d statues of the heads of the WWG, because you’d put us out of business.”

     “I want the heads of the WWG,” said Joel.

     “I was joking,” said Gaspard.  “I am not paying you in statues.”

     “No, I want information,” said Jowl.  ‘I want the real guys, not statues.”

     “I see how it is,” said Xavier.  “And we know how to get there.  Don’t we, Gaspard?”

     “Of course we do,” said Gaspard.  “Why wouldn’t we?”

     “Great,” said Joel.  “Now what do you want me to do?”

     “Well you don’t seem like you’re from around here,” said Xavier, “So I’ll lay it out for you: the people here like to gamble.  They like the chance of it.  And who are we to deprive them of this chance?”

     “Who are we?” asked Gaspard, for emphasis.

     “So we provide,” said Xavier.  “We will get a good contest going for people to bet their money on.”

     “You want me to fight with sound so that some people can bet on it,” said Joel.

     “That’s right,” said Gaspard, grinning underneath his large moustache.

     “You are the worst type of people,” said Joel.  “You are the whole goddam reason the use of these goddam things is so goddam illegal.”

     “So you’ll do it,” asked Xavier, grinning as widely as Gaspard.

     “Fuck you two,” said Joel.  He pounded back what was left of his drink.  “I’ll do it.”

 

* * *

 

2

 

     “Ladies and gentlemen, I tell you, do we have a treat for you tonight,” said the announcer, holding the microphone close to his extremely wide smile.  The crowd assembled in the dark and smoky room gave a little cheer.  “Tonight, from all the way on the other side of the world, we have our challenger!  Give him a round of applause!”  The announcer gestured toward Joel, who gave a curt wave to the audience.  They cheered weakly.

     “Ladies and gentlemen, please do attempt to hold in your excitement,” said the announcer.  “Because this challenger will be fighting against none other than our reigning champions, Tommy and Bob, you know them as—The Bloody Beetroots!”

     The crowd erupted into a great roar of cheers and panegyrics.  Two masked figures pushed through the crowd onto the small platform that Joel also stood upon.   When they entered, the announcer gestured toward them, and somehow the crowd grew louder.

     “Now, here are the rules: one, no breaking the building.  Everyone’s here for fun.  Two: don’t send any stray sounds into the audience, we don’t want any of that.  And three: no fatalities.  Any questions?”

     “No, wait no what?” asked Joel.  He was cut off by the announcer.

     “Good!”  He beamed at the assembly.  “Let’s begin!”

     From somewhere, a bell rang, and the announcer removed himself from the platform.  The Beetroots, queerly simultaneously, pulled up the bottoms of their masks to show their mouths.  Both were in steady grins.

     “You know,” said Joel, “I’ve been meeting a lot of creepy dudes with creepy grins lately, and I’m not really in the mood to deal with whatever bullshit you’re going to pull—“  
     Joel was cut off by a giant slice of sound that sent him careening backwards and that opened up the larger wound on his chest.

     “Aw, God dammit,” said Joel, feeling the warm blood drip down his chest.  ‘That hurts like a bitch.”  He fluttered his fingers across the control pad on his left arm and sent a flurry of tenor tones careening toward the two.

     In a flick of the wrist, a bass tone erected a solid wall of sound before them, diffusing the attack.  Joel was about to repeat his attack when a screech broke through the bass wall and came straight at him, piercing his chest.

     “Fuck,” said Joel, keeling over, clutching his chest.

     From somewhere beyond, a bell rang, and Joel was aware of the announcer leaning over him before he lost consciousness.

 

* * *

 

3

 

     Joel awoke, and the warehouse bar was almost empty.  He tried to sit up, but was simultaneously hit with intense pangs of pain both in his head and in his chest.  He decided it would be best if he remained lying down.

     His hand went to his chest, where he found himself probing a large bandage.  He pulled his fingers away.  Faint light was drifting in through the cracks in the building and through the uncovered windows, and Joel could see a group of people talking over by the bar.

     Joel felt the ground around him.  It wasn’t really the ground at all, it was the stage, the raised platform where he had fought the night before, where he had fought and lost…

     “God dammit…” muttered Joel to himself.

     A couple of people in the bar glanced over to him at this sound and saw that he was awake.  They muttered with the group some more before the entire assemblage went over to Joel.  He could make out who they were: Gaspard, Xavier, Tommy and Bob, the Bloody Beetroots (Who for some reason were still wearing their masks), and someone else.

     “What the hell are you doing here?” asked Joel, glaring at Sonny.

     “He said you were his friend,” said Gaspard.  “No one else seemed to know who you were.”

     “Who the hell cares?” spat Joel.  “And how the hell did you find me?”

     “You died last night,” said Xavier, before Sonny could reply.  “The last stab caused fatal trauma to your organs.”

     “Sorry about that,” said Tommy.

     “And we were able to recessitate you, but we still needed to tell someone you’d died, just in case you didn’t reawaken.”

     “I didn’t think you’d want people calling around back home,” said Sonny.

     “How the hell did you find me?”

     “I was following my own leads,” said Sonny.  “I wonder why or how you made it here, too.”

     “I hitched a ride,” said Joel.

     “There’s no need to be hostile, mang.  We’re going after the same goal.”

     “Anyway,” said Gaspard, “you should be okay after a while, just don’t stain yourself or get too excited.”

     “Heh,” said Joel, still glaring at Sonny.

     “And you may be wondering why the Bloody Beetroots are still here,” said Xavier.

     “I sort of was,” said Joel, turning toward them now.

     “Well, you lost by way of first brought to the ground,” said Xavier.  “But you died, and killing is one of the few rules that we do impose here.”

     “What’re you saying?” asked Joel.

     “What I’m saying is that you won, technically,” said Xavier.

     “And hell of a lot of people weren’t happy about that,” said Gaspard.  “We made out, though.  We always do.”

     “I am sure you do,” said Joel.    
     “And since you won,” said Xavier, “you get to collect your prize.  And you wanted the whereabouts of the heads of the WWG.”

     “That’s right,” said Joel.

     “Well, I don’t know what they told you last night,” cut in Bob, “but they have no idea at all where the heads of the WWG are.”

     “Is this true,” asked Joel, an anger growing in his voice.

     “Slightly,” said Xavier.  “But don’t you worry, we’ll get you justice.”

     “How the hell do you propose going about that?” asked Joel.

     “Well, it just so happens that _we_ know where you can find the WWG heads,” said Tommy.

     “What?” asked Joel.  “Really?”

     “Yeah,” said Bob.  “All you have to do is find the Ed Banger crowd.  They’re a preppy bunch, but don’t let them fool you.  They can pack quite a punch.”

     “Bob and I used to dick around with them all the time,” said Tommy.  “But they started getting in with the WWG, and as you can tell by our involvement with this little operation right here, we are not big fans of the WWG, and we sort of cut it off with them.”

     “And you’re sure that they know where the heads are?” asked Joel.

     “Yeah,” said Bob.  “They would brag about having to go to meetings with them and stuff.  And that’s reliable enough a source—they may be a bunch of pricks, but they brag about real stuff, not made up shit.”

     “What would the WWG want with them?” asked Joel.  “Like, why get involved with them in the first place?”

     “The Ed Banger crew is more than just a group of friends,” said Bob.  “They rule the streets.  And what does the WWG want to do?  They want to rule _everything_ , officially and unofficially.”

     “I see how it is,” said Joel.  “How soon can I get to them?”

     “In your condition?” asked Gaspard.

     “Fuck my condition,” said Joel.  “Show me where these assholes are.”  He paused a moment.  “Someone help me up.”


	5. Chapter 5

1

 

     Joel pulled up in front of the large marble building.  He checked the address that Bob had scrawled out on a piece of paper for him.  It checked out.  This building, which looked like some sort of massive library or government building, was the Ed Banger headquarters.

     “They certainly aren’t subtle,” said Joel, parking in the street and noting the large crest above the entranceway to the building.  He looked to his left and to his right.  There were people filing by him on the sidewalk as they would in any normal city, with no idea what Joel was about to do, what he had been through, or the significance of what was going on, at all.

     He hoped that none of these passers-by were Sonny.  The second they had left the bar, Joel had told Sonny not to follow him, that he was going to face the Ed Banger crew and the heads of the WWG, and he was going to do it alone, without Sonny’s help.  Sonny was reluctant, but he had backed off.  Joel just hoped that he would stay away.

     Joel opened the large wooden door and stepped into the ornamental foyer, the door shutting behind him.  Standing in the center of the foyer was a serious-looking man with a rather large nose.  “I have been waiting for you,” he said, a very accented drawl hanging from his lips.  His right arm brushed his left.  “I know what you are here for.”

     “Well, in that case,” said Joel, “I can just take what I came for and leave, right?  I don’t even have to ask.”

     “I do not think that this is going to happen,” said the man.

     “Well, then,” said Joel.  “Let’s cut the bullshit.”

     Joel ran his fingers across the pad on the device on his left arm, sending out a flurry of sound directly at the other man.  The man stood still as the sound buffeted him, seemingly unharmed.  He retaliated with a flurry of sounds of his own.  This flurry was quite similar to the first set of sounds that Joel had produced, but slightly more powerful in their delivery.  Joel dodged a couple of spikes and sent back another couple of notes.  The man retaliated in the same way, barely moving from his spot in the middle of the foyer.

     “What the hell, man, what are you doing?  Who are you?”

     “My name is SebastiAn,” replied the man.  “And I am remixing you—I am turning your own sounds against you.  If you are distressed, do not be.  It will soon be over.”

     “Fuck you, man,” replied Joel, as he set out a rippling bassline, lapping the marble floor as it shot at SebastiAn’s feet.  The man seemed to ride the waves and returned a slightly different bassline, with periodic spikes.  One of these such spikes knocked Joel backwards.

     “God fucking dammit,” said Joel.

     “Are you giving up already?” asked SebastiAn.  “I’ve only just begun.”

     “So have I,” replied Joel.  He sent his fingers over the controls again, synthesizing the wave that SebastiAn had sent at him and adding a new manipulation and a series of spikes.  He unleashed it on SebastiAn.

     “What is this?” cried SebastiAn, as he was propelled backwards into a rather large potted plant.

     “Hey, you’re not quite so hot now, are you?” asked Joel.  SebastiAn began to get up from the plant, but Joel had gotten a beat started, and allowed it to pound the man backward.

     “I do not know what you think you are doing,” said a voice to Joel’s left.  “But I would highly suggest that you stop it before you get yourself hurt.”

     “Who the hell are you,” asked Joel, turning to the man, who had a shock of gray hair and a serious expression on his face.

     “I am Kavinsky,” replied the man.  “And you are about to regret coming here.”

     Joel was shot backward into a marble pillar, and he heard a loud crack.  He was not sure if it was his back or the pillar that was experiencing the crack.  Either way, it did not feel good at all.

     “Fuck,” gasped Joel.

     “You wish to defeat the heads of the World Wide Government?” asked Kavinsky.  “You cannot even make it past us, how do you expect that you would defeat them?”

     “With a little help from his friend,” came a voice from Kavinsky.  He turned to see who it was, but his head slammed backwards with the emmittance of a loud bass drop.  His body slumped to the ground.

     “God dammit, Sonny,” said Joel.  ‘I said I have this.”

     “Joel,” said Sonny.  “You don’t.  Look, man, I don’t know why you’re so hung up on this.  I know, I made you lose him, and I know that it was my fault, but I’ve apologized in the best ways that I can.”

     “But you shouldn’t have to apologize for anything.  You know he was everything to me-“

     “But he wasn’t,” said Sonny.  “You still had the music.  And you still had me.”

     “But Meowingtons was the- what I mean to say…”  Tears were rolling down Joel’s cheek.  “Fuck.”

     “I didn’t want him to go, man, I know he was everything to you.  But I know that these sounds are everything to you, too.  And I want to help you keep that.”

     “You’re doing this for me?” asked Joel.  He wiped his face with his arm.

     “Well, not just for you, you selfish bastard, I like this stuff too, but yeah, for you.  That’s why I wanted to help you.”

     “You _caused_ this, though.  You caused them to come after me in the first place…”

     “I didn’t know you’d react to me like that.  I thought you would have read up on what was going on in the world around you, and felt the same way that I did.”

     “Oh,” said Joel.

“Look, man, we can sit here and say we’re sorry all day,” said Sonny, “but I would much rather kick some ass and get back what belongs to us.”  He held out his hand to Joel.  “Are you with me?”

“I think you’re with me,” said Joel.  He took his hand.  It felt good to be on the same side as his friend again.

“I wouldn’t make plans too soon,” said a voice.  Sonny and Joel looked to the top of the stairs to see a long haired, goateed man with his right hand resting on the device attached to his left.

“That’s Busy P,” said Sonny, quietly to Joel.

“So what?” asked Joel.

“So we’re fucked, mang,” said Sonny.

Both Sonny and Joel were smashed backward with the impact of a long tenor tone.  “God fucking dammit,” said Joel.  “You weren’t kidding.”

“This guy isn’t fucking around,” said Sonny.  “And neither should we be.”

Sonny popped to his feet and began letting his fingers fly across his device, sending pillars of sound up and down throughout the foyer.  The marble floor and intricate ceilings cracked under the pressure.  Joel struggled to his feet and began sending out a slithering melody through the rampaging destruction of Sonny’s attack.

Busy P was not to be so soon forgotten, though.  He sent a cascading melody, whether it was like a waterfall or a pack of dogs, and it crashed around Joel and Sonny, buffeting them.

“Go now!” cried Joel.  Both of them concentrated their efforts on Busy P.  Sonny’s pounding bass tones battered the platform beneath Busy P’s feet, and Joel’s alto pings attacked the man himself.

“Aaaaahhhh!”

This was not the cry of any instrument or manipulation or synthesizer, this was the sound of a man falling to his death from two stories above.  His mangled body lay next to the broken pot that held the unconscious SebastiAn.

“Fuck,” said Joel.

“What is it?” asked Sonny.  The sounds were settling around them.

“We had to ask him where the WWG heads were.  That was the reason we came here.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” said Sonny.  He pointed at the middle of the foyer, where SebastiAn had been standing when Joel had entered the building.  A hole about the size of a doorway was smashed into the marble floor by Sonny’s domineering bass tones, and upon closer inspection, a flight of stairs led downward.

“Let’s go,” said Joel.

 

* * *

 

2

 

     “Fuck, is this dark,” said Joel.  He felt his way down the stairs.

     “This has got to be it,” said Sonny.  “Why the hell else would this staircase be here in the first place?  I mean, what other use would they have for a hidden staircase like this?”

     “Yeah,” said Joel.  “How fucking long did they need to make it, though?  Damn.”

     “Damn is right,” said Sonny.  “Look at that.”

     Joel stopped and looked up.  In front of them was a large underground cavern.  Its walls were coarse and moist, hollowed out most likely by years of erosion.

     In the center of this large cavern was a deep black pyramid.

     “I think that we found it,” said Sonny.

     “Really?” asked Joel.

     Sonny shot him a dirty look, but Joel didn’t notice.  He had already begun to make his way to the flight of stairs that led up the side of the pyramid.

     “Are you ready for this?” asked Sonny.

     “I don’t fucking know,” said Joel.  “I sure as hell hope so.”

     Sonny’s eyes trailed to the red stain on Joel’s shirt, and the small red hole in the middle of it.  He could see the bandages beneath it.

     “Well, I am apprehensive,” said Sonny.

     “Good for you,” said Joel.  “That sounds like it’s enough emotion for the both of us.”

     They climbed the rest of the way in silence.

 

* * *

 

3

 

     There was a slight breeze as they emerged at the peak of the pyramid.  It didn’t form a precise point, but had a small mesa at the top of it.  On it stood an elevator.  Sonny and Joel got in without a word.  On the inside there were only two buttons, down and up.  They were already as high as they could go in the pyramid, so Sonny pushed the down button.

     They descended.

 

* * *

 

4

 

     When the doors opened, Joel and Sonny found themselves in a wide open room, filled with dark light.  On the opposite side of the room, two figures stood motionless.  Other than them, the place was completely empty.

     Joel took a step forward.  “Hey, asswipes, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

     They made no reaction.

     “Hey, I said I have to fucking talk to you.”

     They made no indication of hearing him.

     “Fuck you both.  Fuck you!”  They still didn’t reply.  “ _Fuck you!_ ” exclaimed Joel.  He started walking quickly and determinedly toward them, which was the most that he could do in his rather injured state.  He grabbed the shorter one, with the gold helmet, by its shoulders and began to shake it.  “Fuck you!  Fuck you!  Fucking _fuck you!_ ”

     The figures made no reply.

     “What the hell is going on?” asked Sonny, who had joined Joel.

     The lights came alive on the helmets of the two leaders of the World Wide Government.

     “If you are hearing this,” said both of them seemingly simultaneously.  “You are hearing a transmission from long before you are listening.  You have found the head of the self-regulating World Wide Government.”

     “Self-regulating?” asked Sonny.

     “The World Wide Government has been regulating itself regularly for what can only be assumed to be a long time now, gradually imposing more and more controlling laws.  These laws will restrict rights that many people hold dear and would, in older times, die for.

     “As time goes on, people become complacent, and it seems that there is no one that is willing to stand up for their beliefs.  Thus, we, Leaders Bangalter and de Homem-Christo, have set up the government to work in this way, so that someday, when the pressure becomes great enough, someone will rise up to take the helm of this ever so controlling and corrupted government.

     “If you are listening to this, that would be you.  If you so choose, the helm will be yours to take.  Simply take the helmet from this surrogate body and take control of the database of the World Wide Government, and do with it as you wish.  If you do not wish, then do not ruin this secret, for it is the solemn hope of us two leaders that someday, this world will have a just leader once again.  End transmission.”

     The lights on the helmets went out again, and things were silent for a while.

     “Well,” said Sonny.

     They were silent for a while longer.

     “This silence is unnerving,” said Joel.  “I say we fill it.”

     “Do you mean, take the offer?” asked Sonny.  Joel didn’t reply.  He went to the taller, silver-helmeted figure and put his hands around the dome of the helmet.

     “You get the other one,” said Joel.  “I never wanted this, and I don’t want to go at it alone.  Someone’s got to balance my fuck-ups.”

     Sonny smiled and took a hold of the other helmet.

     In unison, they lifted the helmets and placed them on their own heads.

     The lights on the helmets came to life.

     The room filled with sound.


End file.
